


confidence

by clairelutra (exosolarmoon), sharpshooting



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ....yep that's it that's the fic, F/M, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 14:26:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14082897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosolarmoon/pseuds/clairelutra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharpshooting/pseuds/sharpshooting
Summary: Lance takes Allura out to get some more proper Earth clothes. Allura takes advantage of this shining opportunity.





	confidence

**Author's Note:**

> i remember once upon a time i used to meticulously plan when and how i'd post fic, actually bothering to give it a second readthrough and have it beta'd and trying to time it *just perfect* for maximum coverage and minimal reader annoyance
> 
> and now i'm just here like "take everything i've written this week at once at 3am and free me from my sins"

“What about this one?”

Lance whistled long and low as the curtain was pulled aside, revealing Allura in a short, flirty, pale yellow sundress. “Lookin’ _good_.”

Allura preened, swishing her hips and grinning when his eyes tracked them like they were fastened there. “You don’t think it’s too short?”

The blatantly keen interest he had in the hem of her dress said it all, but the finger-guns he held up still made her smirk. 

“He- _ey,_ girl. Can I activate your particle barrier sometime?” 

“I’ll… think about it,” Allura giggled, warmth blossoming in her chest, and snapped the curtain shut again.

Once she was hidden from view, Allura pulled her dress over her head, tossing it onto the changing room seat and pulling a pair of minuscule denim shorts off of a hangar.

Mrs. McClain had insisted that if Allura were to stay with them, she’d need something a little less conspicuous than her full princess regalia, so Lance had taken her to the local department store to find some better Earth clothes.

_He may be… well… himself,_ Mrs. McClain had said, smiling wryly at where her son was roughhousing with his siblings on her brand new seating array, _but he’s good at these things. You’ll be in good hands._

And so she was.

Lance had a talent for finding colors that complemented her complexion perfectly, cuts that felt as good as they looked, styles that would be right at home on the mannequins capping the isles.

She’d been sent to the changing room with instructions on what to pair with what, so she pulled a skinny black top off the next hangar.

It really did only take one glance in the mirror to cement her confidence boost—though…

She rummaged around in the bag she’d brought for the thick, stretchy bands Veronica had lent her, and stooped to gather her hair. She eyed her reflection with satisfaction even as she snapped the elastic in place; the swoop of her neck and the line of her jaw were much clearer like this.

Thusly acquitted, she opened the curtain again.

Lance looked up from his phone and _stared_.

Allura rested a forearm on the changing room divider and the opposite hand on her hip, and smirked. 

She looked _fantastic_ , and she knew it.

Lance’s eyes burned into the skin of her hip, and he gulped audibly when she adjusted her hips to encourage her hem to ride up more.

“Hey, boy,” she purred, “can _I_ activate _your_ particle barrier?”

One tick passed, then two, then three, and Lance’s expression slowly morphed from slack-jawed shock to red-faced fluster.

“Y-es?” he squeaked, his voice cracking right down the middle.

Allura, who’d been half-expecting a _I’ll think about it_ , bit her lip and found her own face heating, a smile taking hold of the corners of her mouth by force.

“I suppose we have a winner, then,” she said airily, turning around to the clatter of Lance dropping his phone and choking on nothing.


End file.
